


The Formation of a Courier

by nostalgic_breton_girl



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Humour, slightly cracked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgic_breton_girl/pseuds/nostalgic_breton_girl
Summary: In which I apply to become a courier, and am accepted, and discover more secrets than I was expecting within this mysterious industry.(A somewhat cracked exploration of the position of the Skyrim couriers, with some headcanons - both considered and outrageous - as to the various features of their existence.)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	The Formation of a Courier

‘What do you know of Mysticism?’

It was not quite the question I had expected, it must be said, from my soon-to-be employer.

‘Mysticism?’

‘You know, the magic school.’

‘I know it’s a magic school. I was sure it didn’t exist. Wasn’t it reanalysed, in the early Fourth Era? Something to do with –’

‘– with politics and prejudices,’ my interlocutor finished: ‘I am delighted you have even heard of it. A lot of people haven’t. I can see you were honest, when you said you had some magical education. You could have done better than Winterhold, but it will do. – What are you like at learning new spells?’

‘I would say… above average.’

‘Good.’ And he handed me a spellbook.

I glanced at it, weighed it in my hands, worried it might be one of those particularly volatile ones. (My good friend’s nose had never quite recovered from his Wall of Flames spellbook, though, to be fair, the rest of him had never recovered from the resultant spell, and this was the greater concern.) The name of the spell was on the spine, and it was simply _Marked for Delivery_.

‘What is this?’ said I.

‘Oh!’ said he: ‘you are not old enough to remember when Mark spells were commonplace.’

‘Isn’t that a form of teleportation?’ said I.

‘Don’t say it’s impossible,’ he replied: ‘and don’t say it’s illegal, because that isn’t strictly true. – Anyway, this spell will allow you to set up to ten Marks, not on locations, but on regular recipients. I must ask that you do not abuse this ability. – I have a form for it: you can sign the declaration later. – You will also need to know a Recall spell,’ and he handed me another book. ‘They won’t bite. They might make a bit of a noise, but it’s nothing to worry about.’

‘I know how to read spellbooks, thank you,’ I said, trying not to sound too cutting. ‘I wish they didn’t do the self-destruct thing, though.’

‘They didn’t, back in the good old days. I remember when spellbooks were so intact after reading, you could sell them on… or just leave them somewhere, for someone to find, that was quite fun. – Anyway, what are you waiting for? There’s another spell, once you’ve done those.’

I opened the first book, and was hit by a colossus of knowledge – an entire book, condensed into one inconvenient blast straight into one’s faculties – and the conviction that the room had just exploded. When the stars had faded, I saw that the room was in fact intact, and so was I, which was a relief. And I had the bonus of knowing the ins and outs of the Mark spell, of feeling that sensation of magic in the inner parts of my brain, and in my palms.

My interlocutor smiled at me, vaguely, and invited me to read the second, which I did, with much the same result as the first.

‘Now,’ he said: ‘as I said, this spell must not be abused. However, our courier service has the particularity of delivering to much the same people, over and over. I will be able to advise you on useful Marks. The Recall spell will take you to the recipients. You just have to make sure you’re thinking of the right one. Don’t want to end up with something like the incident of 199…’ He shuddered. ‘Anyway, that’s for the regulars, and is only really useful after you’ve delivered to them once. The first time, you’ll have to find them.’

‘How do I do that?’ said I.

My employer smiled, stroked his fledgling beard and said: ‘How do you think? – Letters usually have an address on. If it says Riften, get a coach to Riften. Et cetera, et cetera.’

‘There’s no magical secret behind that? – No Mysticism spell?’

‘Well, that’s quite another matter, and one I shan’t discuss, until you have mastered the basics. – Now, the final spell is one I’m quite proud of. You won’t remember Divine Intervention, either, I’m sure. That was quite popular, back in the day. Ahh… the pile-ups it used to cause, outside all the chapels… Anyway, there is less of the divine in this one, but it’s just as effective. Cast it, and you’ll be transported straight back to the sorting office.’

‘So I use that on my return journey?’

‘No! No, we don’t want pile-ups. No, this one is for Emergencies Only. If your recipient is particularly angry with their letter, or something. We’ve had a couple of those. We’ve had to make a special department for Unwanted Love Missives and Letters of Apology. They only hire true warrior types in there. The stories they tell… Anyway, you must only use the Postal Intervention in emergencies. Understood?’

‘Understood.’

He handed me the book, and I consumed it in the same manner as before.

‘Now, if you would just sign this declaration… It just says that you won’t use the spells for anything untoward, like stalking, or pranks, or whatever. You can read, can’t you?’ I nodded. ‘And write?’ I nodded again. ‘Can’t always tell with those Winterhold types,’ he said, vaguely, and handed me a pen. I glanced over the document, and signed it.

‘Oh, and one more thing…’

I handed him the paper and looked back at him.

‘You’ll have heard the legends of the Dragonborn, no doubt?’

‘The Dragonborn!’ said I: ‘well, I heard stories as a child; what of it?’

‘Well, there’s just been a new Dragonborn discovered, down in Whiterun, or so I hear.’

‘Oh!’

‘It’s a complicated business, probably. None of our concern, except for one small matter, which I would like you to take charge of.’

‘…What is it?’ I asked, quite bewildered by his relative apathy.

‘Well,’ said he, ‘I have been researching Nordic legends over these past couple of months. A side-hobby, you know. Turns out that in a good many burial-crypts, and up on certain mountains, there are these creations called Word Walls, on which – well, you don’t need to know all the details. They have a Word of Power on them, and it’s said that a Dragonborn can unlock these Words, and use them.’

‘What has this to do with the postal service?’ said I, humouring him.

‘I have a list of the locations. I want you to deliver them to the Dragonborn, one by one. Here, I’ve written the first letter already. And here’s a scroll that’ll take you direct to Whiterun. You should find her there. – What I want you to do is find her, tell her that she has a letter from a friend – he wouldn’t say who from – and give her this missive.’

I was now more baffled even than previously.

‘Set a Mark on her, and I’ll sort out a system for getting the rest of the locations to her.’

‘Why are we doing this?’ I asked.

He looked askance at me. ‘Is it not as amusing to you as it is to me?’

‘It’s… certainly it’s an interesting idea.’ Then, swallowing my rising questions: ‘Very well. I’ll do it.’

‘Very good!’ He clapped me on the back, and beamed. ‘Welcome to the business, my dear fellow. Now, have you got the scroll ready? – Off you pop.’

‘What, now?’

‘No time like the present.’

He did not give me any space for further discussion, and so, with his words and his bizarre plan and the contents of the spellbooks still a whirlwind in my mind, I took the scroll, and activated it. And as I faded from the sorting-office, I saw his curious smile still on his face; I wondered if he were a madman; I did not know quite who he was, how long he had been in this business. If I stayed long enough, would I become like him? Did this explain the looks on the faces of all the couriers I had previously encountered, who had been either strange or exhausted with no in between?

But come! here is Whiterun, I hope nobody saw my teleported entrance. – Where might the Dragonborn be? – I suspect she will be obvious: she is Dragonborn, after all. – But I must leave you now, I think: there are important deliveries to make, no time for chatting!


End file.
